Find the River
by Servatia
Summary: Nick Valentine never entertained the illusion that anyone could fall for him. Not until he met Catherine Greene. But things aren't ever that easy. Moments from mid- to endgame and stuff that's completely my own. Because I need some Nick-fiction.
1. Meetings

_((Title's an R.E.M. song._

 _On a technical note, I'll switch mirror characters. Between Nick and the Sole Survivor, obviously, but from chapter 4-8 between two OCs, too. I contemplated indicating mirror characters GRRM-style, but decided against it for various reasons. But trust me that I'll make the narrative clear._

 _The reason for the big switch is that these chapters was the first part I wrote, actually. And it was something rather different in nature, although I only needed to change very little (mostly Ctrl+H style, seven search items, replaced by only four new ones and a few corresponding grammatical idiosyncrasies I removed). I don't think it's too obvious, but if you want to guess what it was at first, knock yourselves out!))_

* * *

 _1\. Meetings_

There were certain things one expected of a female lawyer. She'd be tall, pale from too much office work, slender, cold as ice, and probably overcompensating for some deep seated insecurity. Those existed, of course. But then there were the Catherine Greenes of the world, who took every stereotype in the book, turned it upside down, and were all the more dangerous for it. In hindsight, he should have recognised her.

The moment the door had been thrown open – it hadn't just been _opened_ , no, it had crashed against the wall and almost fallen shut again, if it hadn't been for a well-timed foot intervening – Nick Valentine knew that he had just been saved by trouble made flesh. The woman had an expression of exasperation, her build was short and solid. Solid, but not overweight. It was more that she had more muscle than some men but no waistline to speak of, that she wasn't tall to begin with, and that her stance was broad-legged and very … well, un-feminine. Lawyer wasn't the profession he would have pinned on her. Soldier, more like it.

She'd given him a quick once-over, looked even more irritated than before, and he knew she was going to ask what exactly he was. Or at least he thought she would. He had his answer prepared. 'Valentine?' she demanded. Nothing else.

'Ah … yes. Is this a rescue or an execution?'

'I need a detective.'

'Well. Get this damsel in distress out safely, and I say you have found one.'

Her lips twitched into an embryonic smile. 'Call me Cat. Let's leave.'

Ϡ

It hadn't taken Nick overly long to learn a few things about his saviour. The first thing was, she was physical. In the beginning he had thought she simply didn't perceive him as a person enough to allow him some space, almost literally pulling him out of Vault 114 and back to his agency. The truth was, she touched everyone. Always. It was actually a good sign. The people she didn't go to up close tended to end up dead.

Not that she was unnecessarily cruel, nor even ruthless. She had simply learnt a very important rule of the Commonwealth: If someone aims a gun at you, shoot first. Cat was a kind person, even if she hid it well. She wanted to help, and she did. Most of all, however, she wanted to find her son, and she had hired Nick to do it.

Somehow, after doing all he could to help, Nick still found himself traipsing through the Commonwealth with this peculiar woman. And at some point, underneath the Old North Church when ghoul blood splattered his face, it struck him that he'd seen her before.

Younger, perhaps, but no less forceful; not quite notorious yet, but likely to become it, defence attorney Catherine Greene had been everything a lawyer wasn't. This, he decided at once, suited her much better. This was her, Cat, the one and only person to survive in Vault 111.

'If people don't want to be found, they should make this more difficult,' she muttered handling the mechanism.

'Perhaps they want to be found but reserve the right to … ah … detain you, should you not be to their liking.' Not that he thought so. He thought he had figured Cat out by now, at least far enough to tell that she wasn't a threat to the lot behind that door. 'It could also be a trap, mind you, but I think I know what you'll find.'

One letter was missing in the code. Cat turned the wheel but didn't activate the button yet. 'Being?'

'The Railroad.'

'You don't say.'

He grinned and reached out to pull her away from the mechanism, just in case a fist was suddenly slammed against the button. Such things happened around Cat. 'They're … ah. Look. Don't hate me because I didn't tell you of them before, but I think you deserve a fair warning. Digging out a secret organisation is dangerous business, and that's what you're doing here.'

'Nick. Talk.'

'I am. The Railroad is trying to save synths from the Institute.'

'Right. And you're warning me why?'

'Because you're not supposed to find the Railroad. If anything, the Railroad finds you.'

'Perhaps they have.' Cat scratched her head. 'Someone put me up to this, a bit ago, when we were in Diamond City.' She smiled. 'Perhaps travelling with a synth gave me away as someone who could sympathise.'

Nick frowned slightly. 'Well … talking to me doesn't make you a synth-sympathiser. I'm not one of the pretty synths, more like a broken old bot.'

Cat scowled. 'I don't like it when you talk like that.' She reached out, for once, not to pull him to wherever she needed him, but to run her fingertips over a rubbery cheek. 'I like that mug.'

Nick licked his lips, trying to ignore the tingling in his sensory receptors where she'd touched him. 'Let's go meet the Railroad, Cat,' he managed. 'They can do with someone like you.'

Ϡ

Sometimes, watching Cat was hard. Especially when she was actually being a lawyer. Faced with a bunch of people who were arguing whether or not she had any right to be here, whether to put faith into the stranger who had just waltzed in, she didn't try to be meek and calm. Instead, she folded her arms and glared at the lot of them. 'If I wanted to bring fascists into your lair, don't you think I'd have … well, fascists with me?' she asked. 'And what the hell sort of dumb question is it if I know what a synth is?' She made a furious gesture in Nick's direction. He wanted to melt into the ground. Very much.

Desdemona opened her mouth and closed it. She stared at Nick. 'That isn't exactly the kind of synth I was talking about.

Nick couldn't blame her. So far he had stayed well out of the argument. So well he might pass for a normal Gen 2 with no mind of his own. 'Not too far off, either,' he said in case Desdemona needed disillusioning. 'I may be botched, but I still think I deserve more than being retaken by the Institute and properly scrapped.'

'Dez. I think we need all the help we can get. And those … they seem willing.'

Her eyes, angry and dangerous, lingered on her friend. 'Well. On your responsibility, then. You know the drill.' She turned her attention back to the new arrivals. 'You get no further than this before you prove yourselves. As far as that is possible.'

'You … do what? You grab synths out of the Institute and bring them here? How? Do you have a way in?'

Desdemona's expression remained stony. 'As I said. Prove yourself.'

Ϡ

Somehow, Nick should have seen it coming. When Cat had returned from her visit to the Institute silent and dejected, refusing to tell them what had happened in an detail, he should have realised that Cat was only human after all and apparently had reached her limit. Instead, he had found himself hauled along by her regarding a request he had made a while ago, chasing a two centuries old ghoul. Now the ghoul was dead, night had closed in around them, and he had declared himself free. But instead of a smile and a slap on Nick's shoulder, Cat suddenly had tears in her eyes – the first time since he'd met her – and run off without another word.

Nick had every intention to give the woman the space she needed, but somehow, he wasn't sure how long he'd be able. She actively avoided him, which made things worse. Only now Nick realised how much he enjoyed her company. They had to talk. Something had gone very wrong and he wanted to know what.

He found Cat in her old house, fallen into a heap next to Shaun's crib. Without much hesitation, Nick sat next to her and placed his left arm on her shoulder. 'Cat,' he said tentatively. 'Let me in. And if not me, someone else.'

She looked at him with red eyes, miserable and angry. 'He's the head of the Institute. Shaun's sixty years old and the biggest arsehole of the Commonwealth.'

Nick wanted to ask an arsenal of questions but refrained. He took her words at face value, hoping he would learn more later. Instead of questioning her, he held her near. If the embrace of a synth could be any comfort, was questionable, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. 'Take your time,' he said quietly. 'You talk when you're ready.'

'Not right now. And … I don't think I can stand you comforting me.' She swallowed. 'Not when I care so much and you're in love with Jenny.' And for once, Nick had no answer.

Ϡ

Nick had fled. He wanted to ponder a few questions. Was Cat right? If yes, was that the ultimate evidence that he wasn't anything more than a robot with the memories of a man long dead? And whether or not she was right, why had he felt as if she'd hit him when she'd said those words? There had been no anger, no resentment in the statement, only pain. How could that hurt _him_?

So Nick had told Preston that he had to check up on the agency and that he'd be back in a couple of days. He couldn't say farewell to Cat. He didn't think he could stomach it.

The agency was empty. Ellie wasn't there, and there was no note from her, either. Well, she probably didn't expect him to show up without an advance warning. She'd come in the morning.

Checking for any new files, he found one on his desk. This one, with a note. 'If you get a chance,' it read in Ellie's neat script. It was dated earlier the same day, so apparently, the young woman had planned to notify him. What it was that made him check the terminal, too, he wasn't certain. There was something wrong. Older messages were missing. Messages he knew he'd kept for later, either because they contained data on certain locations or because they had some other significance. Ellie wouldn't have deleted them. It was so obvious he wondered if someone hadn't wanted him to get suspicious. 'What the hell?' Nick muttered. He took a closer look around. Everything was as it should be. Perhaps too much so.

Feeling apprehensive, Nick opened the file on his desk. If he had a stomach, it would have turned. He slumped into his chair and stared at the picture of Ellie, dead or unconscious, and hogtied on the floor. At the picture of a mangled body that he hoped fervently wasn't hers. Nick looked at her note again. Apparently whoever had come in as a customer, had decided to … do whatever it was instead. If she was hurt, someone would pay.


	2. Here in the Shadows

_((Chapter heading is taken from the song_ Exodus _by Evanescence.))_

* * *

 _2\. Here in the Shadows_

Cat had always wondered if it was wise to collect such an incongruent group of people as her followers all in one place. But she was, by now, convinced that Danse wouldn't go and murder Strong, Hancock, and Valentine, perhaps Codsworth and Curie too, for good measure. She kept X6-88 close to watch him, very carefully indeed. The rest weren't really causing her worry. Strong knew not to eat anyone, MacCready didn't kill allies indiscriminately, no matter how little Preston liked him being around, and all others were really rather peaceful. Well, no. Cait wasn't too peaceful, but at least she was reasonable enough.

In her absence, there was a certain hierarchy. Preston was in charge whenever she was gone. Danse didn't like that much, but he allowed it. Sanctuary Hills wasn't an arm of the Brotherhood, so here, he had no say. That aside, with Preston in charge, Cat knew that the three boneheaded males representing their factions weren't going to get into a serious altercation. The Minuteman knew how to put his foot down.

Nick had been gone for three days when Cat became nervous. After four, she decided to visit Diamond City to check on him. She wanted to go alone, so she sneaked to the bridge in the dead of night. The moment she was over it, she heard a gurgle and hurried footsteps. Weapon drawn, Cat ducked low, trying to take aim in the almost complete darkness. A bark cut through the night, and she let go of the breath she'd been holding. 'Dogmeat,' she breathed. 'You scared me to death.'

'Serves you right, wandering around all alone.' The voice sounded like a body being pulled over gravel. 'Was my impression of a feral convincing?'

'Convincing enough. I'd have shot you if I'd seen you.'

'That's why I made sure to stay hidden.' Hancock chuckled and emerged from below the bridge. 'Where you going, Cat? Chasing shadows? Or detectives?'

'Shut up, Hancock.'

'Aw. I'm hurt. You want to do this alone. I get it. I think I even get why. But at least take Dogmeat. We both know Valentine's nothing if not reliable. If he's late, something's amiss. Perhaps he needs another rescue.'

'How do you even know about this? I never told anyone, and the only witness was Dogmeat.'

'Your synth is self-assured enough to tell that tale himself, Cat. Now go and find him and bring him back safe. He's grown on us.'

Ϡ

At first, Cat hadn't even noticed the file thrown casually on the downstairs bed. Only when Dogmeat had dropped it at her feet she had taken a look. It was sick. The tied woman, the maimed dead body … It was awfully familiar. Why was another question, but not one she would contemplate right now. Had she told Valentine about the mess at all? No, she hadn't talked about it to anyone, and, she was ready to bet, neither had MacCready. After only a few steps inside, she had decided that if anyone had the stomach for this, it would be a hardened mercenary. But the further they got, the wider his eyes had become and the greener his complexion. When Cat had decided not to summarily execute the monster wearing human skin that was responsible, he had merely shaken his head, too disgusted to comment. She wasn't certain why she'd refrained, herself. Perhaps that was the defence attorney rearing her head.

Now Ellie was someone's captive, Nick was gone off in pursuit, and Cat had a very good idea where they both were. But she couldn't just run off only to find that she was wrong. She needed to track them. Cat made a mental note to than Hancock for persuading her to take Dogmeat with her. Without him, all she'd be able to do was follow a whim.

Nick, being a synth, might not have a followable scent, but Ellie was a different matter. Cat raced up the stairs and started searching every corner for something that was hers. She dug a hairband out of a drawer. 'Hey, boy, look here,' she told Dogmeat. The shepherd sniffed, gave a bark, and raced to the door, where he started scratching frantically. Well, it was something. Now all Cat had to do was follow and hope this really was Ellie's.

Ϡ

It didn't take long for Cat to learn that she had been right on both accounts: The hairband seemed to belong to Ellie; and Dogmeat was leading her to the Pickman gallery.

Cat opened the door soundlessly and slipped inside. 'Hush,' she whispered to the dog. 'Careful.' She already knew the house well enough, knew where she had to go. She gave the upper floor a cursory glance and found nothing. Then she headed to the one door she couldn't open back when she had been here. She tried again, fingers trembling, breaking three pins in the attempt. When the lock finally clicked open, Cat almost shouted out with relief.

Her way down into the self-proclaimed artist's den was easy. This time, there wasn't a soul except her. When she knew she was only one drop away from where she suspected him, Cat inched closer to the edge of the path to take in the sight below her: Ellie, still tied and stark naked and suspended from a wall, but squirming and therefore alive. Pickman, squatting on the ground next to her, waiting. And Nick Valentine, approaching at the same time she did, only from the other side.

Dogmeat saw him too and barked. Cat swore. She was going to drop down from the ledge, but Pickman shot upright and placed a knife against Ellie's throat. She grabbed Dogmeat's collar. 'Stay,' she said sharply. So far, Pickman hadn't seen Nick, and if there was one thing they didn't need, it was Pickman wising up. 'Let her go, Pickman. She's hardly a raider.'

The madman laughed. 'No. But she's the personal bitch of that synth. He's been trailing me, you see. Took a while to find out who it was asking too many questions.'

'Perhaps you tend to take the wrong captives. Why can't you stick to those no-one will miss?'

'No-one will miss this one, except that synth. And once he gets here, I'll deal with him.'

Valentine had the sense to remain silent. Cat didn't dare look his way lest she betray him. 'I am here, Pickman. Clearly, you were wrong. Let her go, and I'll walk away. If she dies, you die.'

'It seems we're at an impasse, then.'

'Not really. She's already dead if I just leave you.'

Pickman shrugged. 'I might just let her go if the synth surrenders himself. But what guarantee do I have that you will leave me alone?'

'None. Only that I did the last time. I could have killed you.'

'Surrender your weapon and I let her go. You see, if I have to go out, I want to take her with me.'

Normally, Cat wouldn't have done it. But now it was an opportunity. She tossed her gun down, making sure to throw it almost within his reach but too far for him to just bend down. 'I'm coming down now to pick Ellie up,' she announced and lowered herself from the ledge.

Pickman did her the favour to reach for her gun, removing the blade from Ellie's throat. 'Now!' Cat yelled, but she didn't have to. A shot bellowed, echoing loudly in the cavern, and a bullet buried itself in Pickman's neck.

Nick came out of his cover. 'What are you doing here?' they both asked. 'Later,' they both answered. Cat grinned briefly before cutting Ellie loose while Nick took care that she wouldn't fall. Cat applied a stimpack to the semi-conscious woman while Nick slipped out of his trench coat and wrapped her into it. 'Thanks,' he said. 'What sort of monster does that kind of thing?'

'A human one,' Cat said briefly. Ellie blinked the haze away. 'Hi there,' Cat said. 'We're leaving, if you're all right with that.'

'No, I'd rather take a tour of the place,' the young woman said. 'Intriguing artwork, I have to say.'

Nick ruffled her head. 'Oh, you,' he said. 'Let's get you out of here. You need a doctor, just to be sure you're good.'

Ϡ

Nick looked at the holotape in his hand. It had no description, but he knew what it was anyway. A relic. Like him. Like Cat.

Ellie was all right. They had brought her to Amari, who – while making clear that this wasn't her area of expertise – had fretted over her like a mother hen, declaring her a bit dehydrated and shocked but otherwise quite fine. Nothing a little bit of care couldn't fix. Ellie was a strong woman and refused to be cowed, insisting to return to the city and go back to normal. Nick had agreed, only asking that she send him a message every day, something to let him know she was well. Their last version of normal had led to her abduction. Cat had also decided to use her resources to have a small version of a security turret built in his agency. It was well hidden and could be activated at the push of a button. Well, it would have let him sleep better if he needed sleep.

On their way through the ruins of Boston, Nick couldn't help thinking about his and Cat's exchange before he'd left Sanctuary. They hadn't spoken much after rescuing Ellie. His abrupt departure had hurt her, and there were only so many ways to interpret what she'd said to him and her reaction to his unannounced leaving. Ellie's remark that Cat had been unable to take her eyes off him when he brought her to Goodneighbor didn't help, either.

A part of him wanted to refuse to believe it. The self-deprecating part that made him consider himself less than what he had once been, that made him wonder sometimes if he was even a person, if he was anything but the shadow of a dead cop.

But the old Nick, he wouldn't even have thought about this. He wouldn't have gravitated to Cat. He'd have seen her as a sister, a kindred spirit. The kindred spirit part was true for synth-Nick, too, but he was drawn to her. He'd admired her from the word go, and when he truly got to know her, his growing respect and their friendship led to a deep affection. The way Cat handled everything that had happened to her was astounding, and if he had her right, she would start working with the Institute despite her anger. She'd been asked to infiltrate them by the Railroad and the Brotherhood of Steel. She'd do it. And even though Nick had a hunch who she would side with if her hand was forced, he also knew he'd stand by her, no matter what she did in the end.

'Earth to Nick Valentine.'

He looked up at Ellie, who was standing in front of him with her arms folded. 'Hmm.'

'That part of a case or the ultimate mystery of life?' she asked indicating the holotape.

'That.' He rose. 'Question. If you had the choice to …'

Ellie rose a hand to interrupt him. 'Please don't start with a God-awful metaphor. Go and talk to her. What's the worst that can happen?'

'That my friend will turn away in disgust and never speak to me again?'

'You already aren't talking. I don't know what happened, but something did.' Ellie took him by the shoulders. 'You deserve to be happy. Try, Nick. If that's not what she wants, she won't hate you. Just promise me you'll try.'

Once more, he looked at the holotape before sliding it in his pocket. 'Will do. Thanks, Ellie.'

Ϡ

If Nick had a heart, it would be racing. He had wondered if he should wear something different than his old trench coat, but decided against it. He didn't let on that anything was going on at all. He arrived at Sanctuary, tipped his hat at Hancock and grinned. 'Took a bit longer than I thought.'

'I heard. Abducting your secretary was a real dick move. Glad you showed him.'

'Yes. Ah, have you any idea where Cat is?'

'Oh, I do. And tell your secretary she owes me money. It's her fault I lost my bet against MacCready.'

'Bet?' Nick halted. 'What bet?'

'That the first thing you'd say was where Cat is.' Hancock laughed. 'If that girl hadn't been nabbed, you would have. Now I don't wanna torture you. Cat's in that house she's claimed. Muttered something about boiling mirelurk eggs.'

On the way to the tumbledown building close to the river Nick almost managed to convince himself to do nothing more than announce his arrival. But when she looked away almost at once after spotting him, he decided that this had to end. 'I hoped we could talk,' he said without preamble and not very elegantly. Damn.

'Got work for me?'

'Not exactly.' He took a cooking spoon out of Cat's hand. 'The eggs boil themselves, you know. I have to tell you a few things. First … I am not him. I'm a different person. I've … realised that the moment Eddie Winter died, as I thought I made clear. I have no more link to him. I happen to have his memories, but I am not him.'

'Right. Thanks for the newsflash.' She wanted to sound cold. He knew she'd tried. But somehow, all she managed was to sound quiet and sad. How unusual for this powerful woman.

'I'm not finished.' He decided to be bold and reached out with his good hand, capturing one of hers. 'I am not in love with Jenny because I don't know her. And until a short time ago, I'd have told you I can't feel love, that this is the one thing I'm incapable of. I've since learned that this is wrong. But the fact remains that I am stuck in a Gen 2 body, and that is not exactly what a normal young woman would want.'

'Nick …'

'No. Let me dig that hole deeper. Cost me enough to get started.'

Cat's eyes crinkled in a smile. 'Well. Dig away.'

'Where was I in that little speech of mine? Yes. You are … not normal. You've survived. That's proof enough. You … told Edna that love can conquer all and … God, Cat, I saw them get married, her and Mr Zwicky.' He swallowed. 'I love you. I have known that for a while now, and I hope that I didn't get you all wrong because if I did you'll laugh at the stupid synth that thought he could be wanted that way, and I don't think I could stand that.'

Cat bit her lower lip. 'I won't laugh,' she said. 'What's that in your hand?'

Nick passed her the holotape. Cat slid it in her pip boy and her eyes went wide. 'Sinatra, Nick? How the hell do you find such things?'

'Had that for a long time. Thought you might want it.' He smiled. 'May I ask you to dance with me, Catherine Greene? Two relics, you and me, embracing something more than friendship?' He extended his hand, hoping fervently that this hadn't all been a horrible mistake.

Cat finally locked eyes with him. Fingers trembling, she let herself be pulled to a standing position and then into his arms. It wasn't really any true dance, just slow moving to the music. 'So, when am I going to wake up?'

Emboldened, Nick pressed his lips against her temple. 'Hmm. I could pinch you.'

'Don't.' She leaned her forehead against his shoulder and sighed. 'I really do love you, Nick.'

Holding her a little tighter, Nick smiled into Cat's hair. 'And I you, Kitten. And I you.'


	3. All I Ever Knew

_((Again, I stole the title. This time, from the Flying Pickets's_ Only You _.))_

* * *

 _3\. All I Ever Knew_

'We'll never find out.'

Nick was tempted to agree. He was standing knee-deep in the sludge and not entirely certain if he knew the way back. 'Don't worry Cat. If we've never got lost so far, we won't start now.'

'What a hare-brained scheme! To build a robot that will probably bomb my own arse to smithereens. I could go back and say I found nothing.'

'You could. But you won't.'

'No.' She huffed. 'Nick, I got a problem on my hands.'

He tried not to be too worried immediately. 'Can I help?'

'Yes. You can change my fusion core.'

'Will do. How many have you left?'

'Here or in Sanctuary?'

'Cat …'

'Here, just the one I gave you for this very eventuality.'

'That settles it. We're leaving. I don't appreciate wading through this mess, but I don't want to even begin to contemplate what that or the outside will do to you if you run out of power.' He took the almost dead core from her armour. 'I'm telling you something. When you're down to 75% you tell me and we walk, whether we've found anything or not.'

'I … agree. I really don't want to die.' She continued, Nick in her wake, hefting the minigun she'd handed him. Not his weapon of choice, but certainly effective. 'What about you? Are you … ah … waterproof?'

Nick snorted. 'We'll find out, won't we? Nah. I'll be fine. Or have you seen me panic when it's raining?'

'Look, there. More path. How big is this thing?'

'I'm more worried about how big your nukes are going to be. You sure you want to do this?'

'Not even remotely. Look, there's a kind of material lift. I'll call it.'

Noisy and slow, the platform descended. Nick recognised that particular glow long before it reached the ground. 'Got any grenades?'

'No.' She lifted a rifle from the institute and tried to aim between the mesh. Judging from the sound the ghoul made she'd hit it. Somewhat. Swapping the rifle quickly for a shotgun, she waited less than an arm's length from the lift. The ghoul lunged. It was dead before it collided with her armour. Dead and blown to bits, to be precise.

'Well, you're effective.' He gestured behind them. 'There's a door behind us. Might want to check that out, too. This could be our way out.'

'Happy prospect.'

'Well, I can't believe I'm saying that, but I think the Glowing Sea is easier to navigate than this thing.'

Ϡ

If anyone had asked Cat what this place was missing, she'd have said religious fanatics. Well. She probably wouldn't have said that because it might not have occurred to her in the first place. But she was definitely surprised to find living human beings deep within the Sentinel site. Well. She supposed they were human. Or maybe early stages of ghouls. She'd run into the Children of Atom before and knew their angle a bit. She'd get them.

'Why don't you tell him we'll make like an atom and split, he can't argue with you about that now, can he?' Nick asked behind her in an undertone. The Atom guy probably hadn't heard him, but the power armour amplified Nick's voice. She almost snorted, ruining her attempt to impress on the man that they were actually trying to help him.

'What he tried to say,' she said, 'is that we'll make sure these bombs are going to be used. Imagine they just lie around here for decades, you guarding them so faithfully, never allowed to fulfil their potential! I will make sure they do. I will spread Atom's glory.'

And it worked. The Children of Atom let her pass, let her place the signal. She looked at Nick, waiting for some input, an opinion, anything.

'Your choice, Kitten. Like I said.'

That was enough. She signalled the Brotherhood of Steel.

Ϡ

It might have seemed as if it had all gone well enough. Nick knew pretty soon that it hadn't, but he didn't suppose it was a big deal. Water might do him no harm, but whatever chemicals were in that particular water had caused slight corrosion in his exposed right hand. He was lucky the water hadn't been higher, as far as he was concerned. If anything, it caused him minor discomfort in the form of reduced flexibility. So to Nick it wasn't anything to worry about.

That was only true until Cat, ever observant, noticed that he was flexing his right hand more often than before. 'What's with your hand?' she'd asked, and he knew he was in trouble.

'Nothing much,' he tried. 'That's what happens when you're more or less scrap metal. Don't you worry.'

'Let me look, Nick.'

He wanted to refuse, but found himself unable. He extended his hand meekly and let her observe. She had a thing about mechanical things, she'd know. She bent and straightened his fingers. 'Too much resistance there. Why's that?'

'I suppose I might not be as waterproof as I thought. Can we just be glad nothing came in through my neck?'

Cat clutched his hand is both of hers. 'And now you're going to tell me that I'm not dragging you from one danger into the next.'

Nick sighed. He removed his metal hand from her grasp and hugged her. 'Listen. I'll be fine. I've survived for quite a bit before I met you. There's the occasional damage, but I am not going to break completely anytime soon.'

'Just how long does a Gen 2 body usually survive?'

'I have no idea. A few hundred years, apparently.' He cupped her face with both hands, knowing she wouldn't shy away from the cool metal fingers. 'I will look after myself, Cat.'

'Perhaps you should consider upgrading, Nick.'

Nick's eyes narrowed. 'Did you hit your head? Repeatedly?'

'Well … like what Amari did for Curie. I'm sure it would work.'

He should have known she wasn't going to give in that easily. 'I don't think that's such a brilliant idea,' Nick said, voice low, almost a growl.

'Why not? For one thing, you wouldn't need to worry about corrosion, or anything getting into your system.' She lowered her voice. 'And you could feel me, get a lot more out of our union.'

He had thought about it. Once or twice, in the distant past. His answer to himself had always been the same: The reason why he was tolerated was the fact that he couldn't pretend to be human. If he asked, Amari would make it happen. And he would be shunned and feared and perhaps killed. That aside, there had been nothing he missed out on.

Now there was. He knew it. He knew he should talk this out with Cat, listen to her, and at least give it another thought. But he couldn't. He'd told himself that this was what he was for too long. He was too old to adjust to a Gen 3 body and all that came with it: breathing, eating, the entire digestion stuff. Even if that wasn't necessary for a synth of any generation to survive, it was extremely uncomfortable not to do it and he wasn't in for that kind of ride.

That aside, his troubles were very minor. The right hand still functioned and there was no reason why it shouldn't continue to do so. He'd be able to do some maintenance and it would all be fine again, he just hadn't got to it.

Nick would tell her that no, he wasn't really interested because he'd enough identity struggles for the moment. He didn't need another. 'I'm not going to do something like this to become a more adequate bedfellow,' was what came out of his mouth. He watched her eyes go wide, regret exploding in his chest with a vengeance. 'Oh God, Cat, that wasn't what I meant to say.'

She swallowed. 'If that's … Well. That settles that, then.' She didn't cry. Or yell, for that matter. Nick could have handled that. If she'd cried, he could have tried to soothe her, to somehow convince her that he knew he'd screwed up very badly. If she'd yelled, he could've waited until she stopped and then, well … again, talked to her. He wasn't sure he could handle the disappointment written on her face.

'I am sorry, Cat, I really am. I hope you know that this isn't how I think of you. Or us. I don't know what to say.' It was true. He knew what he was to her, there had never been any doubt. If what she wanted was a toy, it would definitely not have been him.

'You've just said it all.' She took a step back. When Nick wanted to reach for her she took another. 'Not now. Maybe we can talk about what you just said to me eventually, but right now I can't handle even looking at you. I need to go.' She strode off towards the workbench. 'Danse!' her voice was firm, if a little higher than usually. 'Danse!' Nick watched her searching for the man who rarely stepped out of his power armour. 'Where did he go?' she asked no-one in particular.

'We could look for him,' Nick tried. 'Sanctuary isn't that small, he could be on the far side.'

'Leave me alone right now, Valentine. Deacon! Where's Danse, do you know?'

Deacon pretended to check his pockets. 'Not here.'

'Now listen …'

The young man raised his hands in defeat. 'Hey, all right! He left. Seemed a bit hectic. I didn't ask where he was going. Didn't want to know.'

'Good to know we're all cooperating.' She sighed. 'For all I know he might be just next door and you're just being you.'

'No. No, he left. That's true.' Deacon frowned. 'He looked … off. Maybe you should go and find him.'

Cat contemplated that for a moment. 'Not right now. I'm going to the Airport, if Danse isn't there or on the Prydwen, I'll look for him. You're with me.'

'Are you out of your mind?'

'They don't know you anyway. Look alive.'


	4. Circuits and Drugs

_4\. Circuits and Drugs_

The explosion set the husk of a car ablaze. Cutter grabbed a fistful of Edge's sleeve and pulled the synth away, blindly, in any direction he could possibly find. The ground gave underneath them and they rolled down, coming to an abrupt halt against a dead tree.

'Fore …'

Cutter held Edge firmly in place. 'Is beyond our reach right now! They didn't look as if they'd kill him immediately, whyever that is. We'll find him, but we're no use to him dead.'

The entire mission couldn't have gone any worse. They should have met a contact at an abandoned house, a man who would have given them a big job. Only he'd not been there. Now Fore was in the hands of a bunch of lunatics that had shouted something about needing to protect them, and Cutter and Edge had barely escaped them and a number of super mutants.

At least Edge had the sense to be silent. They heard the mutants above them, muttering about puny humans trying to hide. Cutter's heart was racing with no clue how to handle the situation and no plan at all. They had fallen down to a small river. Cutter swore. 'Don't touch the water, Edge.'

'I don't think …'

'I don't care! We're … we're dead is what we are.'

'Cutter, I refuse to accept that, and so should you.'

He looked at the synth, who kept his face perfectly settled and picked himself up from the ground. He did eye the water with mild apprehension, however. 'I believe that settlement is inhabited. There's fire under that pot over there.'

Cutter nodded. He took Edge's proffered hand and let himself be hauled to his feet. 'Thanks.' He smiled, keeping hold of Edge. 'For being here. I couldn't do this alone.'

Edge looked back behind them and apparently decided it was safe enough for the moment. He pulled Cutter into an embrace. 'We will find Fore.'

'We have to find a safe place to make some sort of plan.'

Edge released him. 'We have to survive, most of all. If we can't find safe water and a shelter, we don't have very long.'

'Talk about settlements,' Cutter said pointing to the other side of the river. 'Devil or deep blue sea, Edge, what do you say?' The synth inclined his head. 'The green devils behind us or through the river.'

Edge pressed his lips together. 'I believe they haven't pursued us. But I don't know how well these … creatures can hear.'

'Quite well, I'm afraid. So hush, let's go.'

Edge helped Cutter up the steep slide. Only now he felt how bruised he actually was. If he couldn't rest soon, Cutter's ankle would swell to twice its size after one of the huge dog-things had nearly ripped his foot off, that much he was certain. Once they were up, Edge supported Cutter by putting one arm around his back. His free hand rested lightly on his gun, and Cutter could practically feel him listening to his surroundings. 'I won't let anyone harm you,' the synth said quietly.

Cutter smiled at him and brushed his lips over his cheek. 'I know, love.'

The village ahead of them was destroyed. And yet, as they moved closer, Edge slowed to a crawl and gestured to his ears. Apparently, he heard something. What that was, Cutter wasn't sure. They left the path and tried to make their way around the clustered buildings. They didn't get far. Soundlessly, someone stepped into their way, out of the shadow of a house. Cutter took a sharp breath at the sight of the Gen 2 they were facing. At least he thought that was what this was. Cutter wasn't exactly an expert on synths except for the one supporting him.

Edge had his weapon half drawn but had frozen in mid movement. 'Not an inch,' the Gen 2 said in a drawl, a revolver pointing straight at Edge's face. 'Please put that on the ground and step away. You too. And don't try anything, you're covered.' A deep growl very close behind Cutter confirmed those words. 'Move. Don't keep us waiting. He's rather hungry, you know, and with his mistress gone, I'm not sure I can control him.' The growl turned more vicious behind Cutter's back, and he slowly put his gun down.

'If I take a step back,' he said quietly, 'I think I'll get eaten.'

'You'll have to take that risk.'

Licking his lips, Cutter backed away. Nothing happened.

'Thank you.' The synth advanced, its gun steady, and picked up their weapons. 'Oh, those are good. Thank you so much.' At another growl, it interrupted its scrutiny of their guns and glanced at its two captives as if it had forgotten about them. Cutter didn't buy that for a second. 'Oh. What do I do about you? Who are you anyway? Are you synths? What's with those uniforms or whatever they are?'

Edge stared silently at the Gen 2, while Cutter felt anger boiling up in him. 'You've got some nerve, thief! You … you … Tin Man! We're not synths!' There were some synths, Cutter knew, that were responsible for recovering lost ones. Those weren't Gen 2s as far as he knew, but you couldn't be careful enough.

Their captor opened its mouth and closed it again. 'Well I'll be … Are you vault dwellers? No. No, you wouldn't be.' It gestured towards the village with its gun. 'You're either putting on a rather convincing show, or you need help. I'll find out either way. Move.'

'I'm not going anywhere with a Tin Man which points a gun at me and refuses to say its own name. If it has one. Who's controlling you, anyway? Are you a defence mechanism of some sort?'

'Cutter, I'm not sure that it is wise to yell at him.'

'Him? That's not a him, that's an it.'

'Enough.' The Tin Man's voice was quiet but resolute. 'We will talk. But not here. Follow me before people come looking for me. Not all of us are as accommodating as I am, you know.'

The Tin Man led the way into the least broken house. It contained an old woman in a chair and a much younger one on a couch, both legs thrown over the backrest. 'Preston somewhere?' the Tin Man asked.

The young woman stared at Edge and Cutter for a moment. 'Ah … I'll get him.' When she reached the door, she snorted. 'You find the strangest things. Really.'

The Tin Man sighed. It was a confusing thing to do for a Gen 2. They were mere machines, no soul, no personality … weren't they? 'Please have a seat.' It glanced at the old woman. 'Thoughts on them?'

'So much pain,' she said, her voice weak and husky. 'The pain of separation, forever lost. Different, yet the same … So hard to feel what's right when your eyes say it's wrong.'

The Tin Man raised both hands. 'Thanks … that'll do.' It rubbed the bridge of its nose. Another very human gesture, Cutter noted. 'Please, please, lay off the chems.'

She didn't dignify that with an answer.

'Listen to him,' a stern voice said from the door. 'Piper says you have prisoners? Since when do we take settlers at gunpoint?'

'They look like settlers to you, Preston?'

'As much as you.'

'I'd like to handle them. You handle those?' The Tin Man passed their guns to the man.

'You frisked them?'

'No. With only Dogmeat and me to keep them in check, I'd rather not, even if one of them is injured. Keep an eye on them and I will.'

'No need,' Edge said. He volunteered a concealed blade and another small gun. 'Cutter, I believe it is wise if you surrender yours as well.'

Preston took their things with a sceptical expression. 'Question them, would you? That's your line of work anyway.'

'Will do.' The Tin Man blinked. Just one more pointless thing to do if your eyes were diodes. 'Well, here it goes. I am Nick Valentine, private detective, even more of an eyesore than I used to be, and that's saying something. Now we've got who I am covered, who and what are you?'

Cutter glared at it. 'Cutter of the Tourists. Mercenaries.'

The Tin Man nodded towards Edge. 'You? The leader?'

'Confidant of the leader. Edge.'

The Tin Man's lips twitched into a smile. 'Close enough. And what would you want from us here?'

'Fore – our leader – has been taken captive by crazies.'

'Usually, crazies in the Commonwealth shoot on sight. Who took him, I wonder.' The Tin Man leaned forwards. 'And why?'

'Why did you apprehend us, sir?' Edge asked.

The Tin Man laughed softly. 'Nick will do. I apprehended you because settlers or people who need help usually take the road. Those that try to sneak in are very likely robbers. You both seem injured.'

Only now Cutter saw the abrasion on Edge's left arm. He jolted to attention. 'We need help! Your river's contaminated, do you have clean water? How do you survive here? I mean … not you, but the real people.'

The Tin Man nodded. 'Real people. I'm wounded, in case you can't see the gaping holes in my neck.'

Cutter blinked. 'What?'

'I believe that was a joke, Cutter,' Edge helped out.

'A joke. Well, he's ahead of you, then. Do you … think for yourself? Do you just act, or do you mean business when you laugh?'

'I think and feel all by myself. I have sensory receptors in my skin. Not so much where it's missing, only perception of temperature there.' It folded its hands behind his neck. 'I am a synth, obviously, some sort of abortive prototype or so. Between Gen 2 and Gen 3, I suppose.'

'So do you have a heart, Tin Man? Help us out. We need to find our friend, but we don't know where he is. The lot that took him, they tried to get us, too, but then the super mutants showed up and they made off with him. We barely escaped.' Cutter swallowed. 'We shot some of those things, but I tell you they pack a punch and we weren't exactly expecting trouble.'

'That they do,' the Tin Man said. 'Some mercenaries you are. You're lucky to have escaped. And the people who took your friend, you got any idea why? They say anything?'

'To protect him. From the Institute. They wanted to take us all.'

'Well. Let's see. I thought you're synths when I first saw you. Perhaps they thought that, too.'

'Why would you think we're synths?'

The Tin Man frowned. 'You look wrong. The distinctive patterns painted and stitched to your armour look a lot like a uniform, and that's always strange. You haven't been in this mercenary business for too long, have you?'

Cutter and Edge exchanged a glance. 'No. Couple of months.'

'Well. If whoever grabbed your missing person believed he's a synth and didn't murder him on sight, I suppose I have a good idea who it was. In that case, your best shot in getting him back is the General. But right now, she's not here. About the radiation and any injuries, we can help you out. And we have purified water.' He smiled. 'We'll guard you over night, make no mistake. You aren't leaving this place without permission.'

'This is getting better and better,' Cutter muttered.


	5. Give and Take

_5\. Give and Take_

Edge lay on the bare mattress, eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling. 'I don't believe that we should antagonise these people.' His voice was quiet. They seemed to be quite alone, and he was tempted to believe they actually were. Valentine had given them a gun each back, muttering something about not leaving anyone unarmed even in a relatively secure place, which had confirmed that he and the rest, whatever they wanted of them, were not malevolent. A woman with short black hair had patched Cutter and him up, deeming their exposure to radiation minimal at this time and recommending not to take medication for that just yet.

Cutter's voice drifted through his thoughts. 'No. This Tin Man's a smooth one, I tell you, though. Keep an eye on it.' An arm slid around Edge. 'Tell me, Edge, what do you make of it?'

'I believe you should quit referring to Valentine as it. He's not that different to me, after all.'

'There's a vast difference. Synth isn't synth. Anyway, I'm telling you it … or he wasn't lying when he said he's a PI. A good one, too, unless I'm very much mistaken.'

'Then perhaps we're in luck.'

'If this lot here even want to help us.'

Edge turned to his side. Through a crack in the wall, firelight filtered through. Heavy, slow footsteps ambled past, audible despite the constant noise of the generator just outside, making Edge wonder about their owner. He felt Cutter shift. 'Stay,' he whispered. 'I believe this is not a question we should answer tonight.'

'I'm … Edge, I'm scared. I don't get frightened easily, you know that, but that lot … there's something more to this place.'

The synth held him close. 'I'm here. I looked into the other houses. Judging from the number of beds, there must be far more people here than four. I'm certain we'll meet them.'

'And what about that old lady?'

'I believe she was drugged. And it seemed Valentine was displeased about that. He wanted an opinion. A sober one.'

'Yeah, but … reckon she's some sort of clairvoyant? Think … think we're doomed?'

Edge tried not to be hurt. 'You believe our relationship won't last because a woman on psycho said so?'

'You're right. It's dumb. Don't hate me.'

'No. Go to sleep Cutter.'

Ϡ

When Cutter woke up, the sun was standing high and Edge was gone. He stepped outside and found the synth in seemingly polite conversation with a super mutant. Seeing him, Edge said a final quiet word to the creature and approached him. 'This settlement is truly fascinating. Apparently its leader is some sort of General, or at least, that's what they call her. And now comes the interesting part: The settlement belongs to the Minutemen.'

'Really? That's actually good news.

'Indeed. At least that's what I gathered from Strong's crude communication.'

'Strong? That thing has a name?'

'Yes. And I remind you that it's rather impolite to refer to them as objects. He may not be very eloquent, but he's a person. So is Nick Valentine or Curie, the synth that helped you with your mangled foot.'

'That was a … oh damn.' He shook his head. 'So where is that General? I want to speak to her.'

'Where is the General, indeed,' the Tin Man's drawl said behind Cutter. 'No idea. But here's the deal, I want your help before I help you.'

'Does your General often leave her soldiers all alone with no-one in charge and no means to contact her?'

'She's in good hands. Very good hands, in fact.'

'Another one of your chaos troop?'

'Hah! That sums it up.' The Tin Man chuckled. 'Chaos troop. Yeah, and he's another one. In her absence, Preston's in charge of Sanctuary Hills. But we all know what we have to do when. We aren't the military. We're all free agents, pretty much.'

'And the General?'

'Is trying to help the people of the Commonwealth, which is more than can be said of most. That's enough for me.'

'Altruistic Tin Man, are you?'

'Not always.' He folded his arms. 'You don't like me, Cutter, I get it. You don't have to. But if you want to find your leader, I'm your best shot.'

'Then prove your altruism and help us without wanting anything in advance. Maybe we'll help you afterwards.'

'Sorry. Can't. You want something from my friends, you got to help my friends. Simple as that.'

'Are you part of some secret organisation?' Edge asked.

The Tin Man grinned. 'Nah. Me, I'm just a detective in the General's wake.'

'Fore's in danger.'

'I highly doubt that.' The Tin Man lit a cigarette. Smoke escaped through the holes in the synthetic skin of his neck. 'If he's where I think he is, he's perfectly safe.'

'Who or what are these mysterious others?' Cutter asked, impatience finally getting the better of him. 'More Tin Men? More Strongs?'

He received a level look. 'How can you travel with a synth, love a synth, and be so prejudiced?' Cutter's eyes widened. 'Yes, you are that obvious. And I told you we're watching. We heard you.'

'What do you know about love?'

The Tin Man looked away. 'More than you would think.'

For the first time, Cutter wondered if there wasn't more to that Nick Valentine person than circuitry and coolant. 'Hey, look,' he said. 'I'm sorry. That was … way below the belt.'

The synth snorted. 'Nothing worth mentioning you could hit there. Don't think about it. Here's the deal. I'm heading out in a bit. If you want my help, you come with me, simple as that. Since I'm not suffering from fugue, I won't run back and forth between here and Bunker Hill. Your decision.'

Ϡ

Edge watched Cutter closely. Since the night, he hadn't mentioned Mama Murphy's epiphany, or whatever it had been, again. The thought that his friend and lover considered her words a cause for worry rankled him, even if he'd never admit it. They didn't always agree on everything, but then again, who did?

And then there was their guide. The synth was rather quiet, and according to some of the people in Sanctuary Hills, that was unusual. He seemed to be feisty normally, and no-one knew what had happened to change that.

'So what are we even doing, Tin Man?' Cutter asked. The address had lost its venom. To Edge it still felt wrong not to use his name. At least when they had discussed whether or not they should follow him, Cutter hadn't called him 'it' any more. There was no doubt Valentine was a person. To deny him that was simply unjust.

'In the General and Deacon's absence, Hancock came to me. Someone from Bunker Hill's missing, he's heard, however that particular channel of communication works. He was going to contact certain common friends for help, but I don't think we'll need them. I have a feeling I know where he is.'

'You do?'

'More or less. He's been getting stir crazy, the old fool, and he might have gone to salvage stuff from a place that's supposed to be safe. Only the best places to salvage from are usually everything but. Now Stockton's resourceful enough not to get himself killed. But he may be forced to hide.'

'And how do we find him?'

'How else? Ask around if he mentioned to anyone where he was going. I assume he did. Wouldn't just leave and not come back, not his style. Someone will have a general idea and then we go and take it from there.'

'He a friend of yours?'

The detective took a while to answer. 'His cause … is close to my heart.' He chuckled. 'Oh, forgive me, figure of speech. He belongs to the people who may or may not have your Fore.'

'I'll ask again. More synths like you there?'

'No, not exactly like me, but synths.'

'Nick, do you have emotions?'

The synth halted and looked at him. 'If I say that I do, will you believe me?'

Cutter licked his lips. 'At this point, I would have a hard time believing you if you denied it.'

A slow smile formed on Nick's face. 'You know, this is the first time you have used my name. If I were human, I'd say my heart skipped a beat. It sure felt similar.'

'How do you perceive the world?'

Nick thought for a moment. 'Very much like you, in fact. I suppose it's different, more analytical perhaps, but there. That's necessary, you see. If I don't feel extreme heat, I could die.'

They continued in silence. The landscape around them was barren, almost all life destroyed by the war. Cutter was quiet. Awfully quiet. And he avoided Edge's eyes. 'If that helps, I will prove to you that this was no true vision,' Edge ventured.

'What?' Cutter asked. 'Oh. I … God, you must think I'm a complete idiot.'

'Quite the contrary. But if she does see unspoken truths, she must be able to tell us about the past as well. If she can't, you know you need not worry.'

'I shouldn't worry at all.'

'No. I wonder what causes your insecurity and if I'm the reason.'

'Not really. Can we please not discuss this with a perfect stranger?'

Valentine raised both hands. 'Trust me, I won't use anything against you. But I have to say that Mama Murphy's visions can't be dismissed that easily. She sees things all right, but the way she says them isn't always clear. I for one would have interpreted her words differently.'

'And how?' Cutter asked.

Nick remained silent for almost a minute. 'I'd rather not say. I don't believe knowing the future is in anyone's best interest. You might agree, Edge, or am I wrong?'

'No, quite correct.' The synth brushed his hand over Cutter's. 'I will not leave you.'

'No.' Cutter shook his head when Edge was going to answer. 'Don't. Not now. But try and prove her wrong. Perhaps that helps.'


	6. Attack

_((Chapter heading is the title of a System of a Down song with its lyrics close in my mind as I wrote this.))_

* * *

 _6\. Attack_

'Great. The Brotherhood would have a field day.' Valentine stood before the other two, revolver held loosely in his metal right hand, after peering around the corner. He stretched both arms to the side and walked backwards without the smallest sound. He steered them away from the tumbledown building and into another one near them. 'Listen. There's synths out there. Gen 1, I suppose. Meaning they're really rather primitive metal husks. Don't worry, they're not sentient. Not truly.'

'What exactly tells you that your friend's in there?' Cutter asked.

'Ghoul I chatted with. Said he was going to the combat zone. That's that building over there. Been a major fight in there, General cleared out raiders and now it's a pretty dead place. Only Stockton figured there was still stuff left inside. Which I suppose might be true.'

'Why are the synths after him?' Edge asked.

Valentine made a face. 'Good question. Not one I can answer, though.' He shook his head. 'Look. There's people who think synths like Edge should be free. You're hardly the only one. And if there's one thing the Institute's scared of, it's people taking their slaves away.' A flash snapped across the sky. 'Oh, not that, too.'

Cutter's eyes went wide. 'Oh my God. Not a radstorm.'

'Hurry.' Nick didn't wait for an answer. Still ducking low he darted back outside and off over the rubble of decaying buildings. Edge took Cutter's wrist and followed, the pair not quite as noiseless as the synth. A shot from an Institute rifle hissed over their heads, and Cutter slipped. Edge stopped, hauling him back to his feet. Valentine, too, had halted and was shooting over their heads. 'Move!' he shouted. 'Carry him if you must, but move. The storm is right above us.' Lightning struck ahead of them, momentarily blinding them both. Edge collected his partner in his arm and did as he was told, following the synth across the street into a large building. Valentine closed the door behind them and kept going, turning left and heading down a flight of stairs. A large metal door stood ajar. They all darted inside. Valentine locked them in with a button on the wall. 'Not ideal, but at least somewhat sheltered.'

'Who're you kidding, I'm already dead,' Cutter said. His eyes were wide, and Edge saw a trace of fear. 'Help Edge, if you can, he's more resilient, or so he claims. Perhaps he'll make it.'

'No-one's dying,' Valentine said, settling on a chair and digging items out of a pocket.

'By the time we reach anywhere with a doctor, I'll be beyond saving. Leave it.'

The synth looked at him. 'Think I take a human anywhere unprepared?' he asked. 'I know that was a hell amount of exposure right there, but you'll live. Trust me. Now you first. I need your arm.' Valentine approached with an infusion bag labelled as RadAway. 'At this point it matters little if you trust me. I don't even need to kill you.'

Looking defeated, Cutter offered his arm. 'Knock yourself out.' Edge sat behind Cutter and pulled him against his chest. 'You get some too, but I think he needs it first. I don't even know if radiation does anything to you. Hold him, if he gets seizures, but I don't think it was that bad.' He applied the infusion and fixed it with duct tape. 'Well. Now we wait.'

Ϡ

The occasional sound of thunder drifting in reminded Cutter that the storm was still raging outside. He had calmed down by now, leaning against Edge. Nick had left them a short time ago, locking them inside for their safety. If he had wanted to kill them, Cutter figured, he wouldn't have brought them here. 'You all right?' he asked.

'I prefer potential nausea to potential dying, Cutter.'

He laughed softly. 'I suppose.' He turned around, looking up at the face of the man he loved. 'I'm sorry, you know.' He swallowed. 'When that thing shot at us, I thought I'd never get to say this. I hurt you. I should have known better than to question everything.'

Edge ran his fingers through Cutter's hair. 'That is who you are. You question.'

'Yeah, and I should have questioned that … vision, or whatever it was. I don't need you to prove anything. I wanted you to know that.'

Edge sighed. 'Cutter, I wonder if we aren't too … I don't know. I think this was a horrible idea. This mercenary thing.'

'Well, you're right. But we've got to come by some caps some way.'

'We'll find something.'

'All right. I love you, you know.'

'Yes. I do.'

The door opened and swept Nick inside. 'Still all hell loose out there. This is gonna be a long one.' He placed a bucket and an assortment of empty bottles within their reach. 'Stuff can make you nauseous and is always a diuretic. While we're locked in without facilities, I thought I'd bring something to make this a bit less of a nightmare.'

'Thanks, Tin Man, I appreciate it.'

Nick chuckled. 'If I ever get involved in this mess as more than the General's sidekick, I know what name I'll pick.'

'You already have a nickname.'

'That's what I just said, isn't it?'

Cutter grinned. 'No. I mean … your name's Nick. So it's a nickname.'

The synth rolled his eyes. 'Radiation might've got you worse than I thought.'

'That General of yours, she got a name?'

'Asks the man who calls himself Cutter,' Nick muttered. 'Anyway, yes. Cat. Catherine Greene, to be precise. General of the Minutemen and single most difficult person in the Commonwealth.'

'You don't get along, do you?'

Nick smiled vaguely. He sat on the floor across from them. 'We used to. We had a fight.'

'From what the people in Sanctuary Hills said, she sounds like an honourable woman, and one that shares the values you seem to have. What did you disagree about?'

Nick's gaze flickered to his right hand. 'Me.' He hesitated. 'She believes I could … and should be … ah, repaired. Or rather, improved.'

Cutter fixed his gaze on the large holes in Nick's neck. 'Well, she has a point.'

'She wants it for the wrong reasons.' He frowned. 'No. That's not even true. I'm the mess here. She just tried to help.'

'And now she's doing whatever a General around here does?'

Nick gave Cutter a lingering look. 'You wanna talk politics? Well, I don't. Deacon will look after Cat all right, and he's pretty much on board with her views. It's more who they're looking for that I'm not sure I want them to find.'

'Doesn't like synths much, that one?'

'No. Anyone tell you that?'

'I made a guess. She looking for him to get under your skin, then?'

Edge shifted behind Cutter. 'A motive you seem to share, Cutter,' he said quietly.

'Ask the synth preposterous questions, he's just a machine, eh?' Nick said. 'It has occurred to me, you know. And she'd have cause. Been dragging her on a wild goose chase that cost us more time than we have to spare. And when she makes a simple suggestion I go and bite her head off.' He shook his head. 'But no, in fact, it's just … he's gone AWOL and Cat's worried. It's not his style.'

'Now I'd die to know what that suggestion of yours was.'

'To pick up two strangers, get them contaminated and addicted to RadAway before feeding them to a deathclaw. Get out of my hair. Not that I have any.'

Cutter snorted. Nick shook his head, but the human in Edge's arms was shaking with laughter. Nick watched him with a bemused expression before turning his gaze on Edge. 'He's something else. Is he always like that?'

'Almost.'

'You seem like a sensible fellow. How do you stand it?'

'A lot of practice.'

'Figures.'

Cutter sobered. 'I'm sick. Oh, not good.'

'Bucket,' Nick said simply. 'Sorry. Can't be helped. Good news is, that's about it. We'll wait for your stomach to settle and move on. Try and make use of those bottles. There aren't any where we're going and you'll get the urge.'

Ϡ

The entire thing went way too smoothly, Cutter always felt in hindsight. They managed to get inside the building Nick supposed Stockton was hiding in almost unseen. There were a few very robot-like synths in there, but that was it.

After getting rid of them, they had gone in, informed the man inside that all was well, and headed back out into, Cutter thought, relative safety. Then Nick swore and all but threw them back into the broken building they had first ducked into to avoid being seen. He gestured for silence and stood rooted to the spot. If he were human, Cutter thought he would be sweating. Cautiously, he motioned them all back, gesturing upstairs. 'There's another room with a relatively secure door in there,' he whispered. 'Go in, close it, try not to make any sound, and don't come back out until after … you'll know once you hear it.'

'After what?' Edge asked.

Nick turned to Stockton, ignoring him. 'Your turn now. You contact the Railroad. I think they have their friend. If they don't … Well. Let's hope I'm right.'

'Nick, what are you doing?'

'Go. Maybe we'll talk later. Go.' He pursed his lips. 'And tell Whisper I'm terribly sorry and I'll miss her. In case.'

Stockton pulled Cutter and Edge off and upstairs.

Halfway up, Cutter saw the door burn to white ashes. 'What the … we can't leave him!'

Stockton kept dragging him on. 'Shh! He can hold his own all right, move.'

Cutter hesitated. As if he had all the time in the world, Nick placed a metal object in the tight passage between him and the robot. It looked ghastly, the head surrounded by a glow that gained intensity. He was dragged on by Edge, losing sight of the synth downstairs.

From below, he heard gunfire and the whining sound of bullets ricocheting from metal. Cutter followed Edge and Stockton through a door. It was barely closed when the entire building shook from an explosion. Then, all was silent.


	7. Gone So Far

_((Deviating minutely from what you can do in the game here._

 _Chapter Heading is a nod to System of a Down's song_ Soldier Side. _))_

* * *

 _7\. Gone So Far_

'We've got to look!' Cutter said, struggling against Stockton's grip on him.

'Not yet. It's not safe.'

'You want to do what? Keep hiding?'

'Mr Stockton, please release Cutter,' Edge said quietly. 'We can't remain here. We have to assist Mr Valentine.'

'There won't be much left to assist! You heard the explosion.'

Edge sighed and knocked his gun against the back of Stockton's head. The hold on Cutter eased and he saw the synth lower the unconscious form to the ground. 'Thanks, Edge. Give me cover. We'll grab him when we know it's safe.'

Cutter tried to figure out where he would have tried to sit out a close-quarters explosion in this building as they moved downwards and found no good place. There was behind the counter, and indeed, what might be a burnt fedora could be seen. Cutter desperately wanted to call out, but he didn't dare.

'Cutter, there's movement outside, and they are not trying to be silent. They appear to be only a few people. I believe three, one sounds … heavy.'

'Let's guard the door and hope it's not another of these glowing robots.'

'Indeed.'

Cutter strained his ears. Something sure was there, and it sounded mechanical. And it came fast. 'Drop your weapons!' someone shouted the moment they came running inside the building. The man was wearing power armour, and he stared first at him, then at Edge. 'Who the hell are you? What was that explosion?'

'Wait, don't shoot!' Cutter said quickly. 'We're here … to help someone. From Bunker Hill. Got caught be the synths here.' He indicated the torn metal that remained of the glowing robot.

'You didn't kill an assaultron.'

'It's certainly dead.' He wasn't going to enlighten this person that they hadn't exactly had a hand in its destruction or that he had no real idea what an assaultron was.

'True. Cat!'

'Coming, Danse. Found the source of the explosion?'

'Assaultron. Perhaps some of them explode on destruction, or it was detonated by some other means.'

The woman who entered must be the General. She looked completely different to what Cutter had expected, even if he wasn't sure what that was. Short and stocky certainly wasn't part of it. The dark skin on her face was marred by a long, deep scar running from the side of her forehead almost down to her neck. 'General?' he asked.

The woman's attention snapped to him. 'Are you with the Minutemen? I haven't met you.'

'No. And no. I'm Cutter, this is Edge. A man named Stockton is upstairs, unconscious but unharmed. I'm … not so sure about your friend Nick, though.'

'What?' That one word was almost a whisper, her face suddenly grey. 'Where …'

'Not sure, but …'

'I have him.'

Cutter spun. With the immediate threat of being shot removed, Edge had collected the synth in his arms as if he were weightless, which was certainly not true. The skin on his left arm was gone, one dried drop of the synthetic material still dangling from the metal skeleton. His face was blackened but he was, apparently, conscious.

If anything, Cat had gone another shade paler at the sight. She approached, aiming an odd looking gun at Edge's face. 'Put him down. Gently.'

'I mean him no harm.' Edge obeyed the order all the same.

A man with sun glasses entered and stopped dead when he saw Nick. 'No,' he said, looking stricken. 'Oh God, no, not Nick.'

Cat ignored him and dropped to her knees beside the detective. 'Nick … can you talk to me?'

His upper lip twitched. 'Ah, Kitten.' He tried to sit up but slumped back down. 'I believe I'll need some help. Or a lot. Oh, and stop aiming that thing at him, he's a friend.'

'Danse, take him to …'

'Oh, no, that one isn't touching me. He'd drop me in the mouth of a deathclaw and claim it was an accident.'

'Nick …'

'I can take him.'

Cat gave Edge a long searching look. 'Very well. We're going to Goodneighbor. He'll get help there.' She bit her lower lip. 'Danse, grab Stockton, bring him home. I'm sure people miss him there. After that, make a beeline for Sanctuary Hills, talk to Preston. Tell him everything. Whatever you do, stay safe. Deacon, run ahead of us if you can, let Dez know we're visiting.' She looked at Nick. 'You really think I can trust them? Very well. We're going somewhere else. Somewhere better.'

Ϡ

The fear Cat radiated was giving her the kind of haste that bordered on self-destruction. Edge, encumbered with his precious cargo, slowed them down, though. Nick Valentine had apparently decided to go on standby. He came to when talked to, but mostly, the lights in his eyes were off and he was quite literally a dead weight in the Edge's arms. Cutter was struggling. He was nauseous either from the aftermath of the radiation or from the medication. He insisted they continue to hurry through the ruins of the city, though, and refused to slow down. Considering his contempt for the PI at first, this was remarkable, and yet, it was typical for Cutter. Once he cared, he would risk his own health. Why he suddenly did care to that extent Edge wasn't certain, however.

Eventually the toll it took was too much for the exhausted Cat. She must have had a long road behind her before they'd met, and now she'd found her limit. Her legs gave under her and she crumbled into a heap, unable to get herself to move. Tears of frustration, fear, and anger formed in her eyes. Cutter knelt next to her, almost consumed by fatigue himself. He placed a hand on her shoulder. 'I've been there,' he said. 'Believe me, I have, but we don't help him if you destroy yourself on the way.'

'You don't know shit,' Cat said with a ferocity she shouldn't have had the energy for. 'I want to hit him! He shouldn't have gone without me, he shouldn't have risked himself!'

Cutter lowered his voice, but Edge still heard him. 'You love him, don't you?'

Edge expected her to protest, but instead, she nodded minutely.

Cutter sat down more comfortably, as far as that was possible on a heap of debris. 'What did he do to hurt you?'

'He … thinks I'm shallow. And I don't know how he can. I thought he knew better. He certainly should.'

Dropping his pretence, Edge sat Nick down reclining against a wall and joined the other two. 'Cutter and I have some experience with errors in communication. Perhaps we can assist you with something less tangible than fire support.'

'You two?'

'Yeah. Took long enough. Lot of frustration, too, on both sides.' Cutter smirked. 'I know a little something about loving a machine. Edge's a synth.'

'How much can he actually feel?' Edge asked. 'Does he process touch, smell, taste beyond what's necessary for survival?'

'Yes. But … not like we do. I always feel … I don't know. He … I really shouldn't discuss this with strangers.'

'You obviously didn't discuss it with him, either. Not really.'

Cat offered a slightly hysterical laugh. 'I'll never forgive him if he dies. Or me, for that matter.'

'Where are we bringing him? What can they do for him?'

'Friend of mine can repair the damage to his systems. I hope, at least. If anyone can, it's him.'

'Is this the mysterious organisation Nick was so tight-lipped about?'

A slow smile formed on Cat's face. 'The Railroad. Yes. Just how much did he tell you?'

'Nothing. Just vague hints about someone he wants to help. I never thought they're the Railroad. Never thought those are real.'

'Good man. Stockton back there is a vital Railroad contact. Without him …' She swallowed. 'Danse doesn't know that, thank God. Although rather him than that courser.'

'Why work with him at all, then?'

'Well. As of recently, I think he won't be the problem. But how … can anyone ask me to work for the people who tossed poor Nick out as trash? No. I need the Railroad. And they need me.' She smiled. 'I'm not making much sense, am I?'

'No,' Edge said.

Cutter snorted. 'Not to us, at least.' He nodded towards Nick. 'What about him, now? He said you wanted him to be improved.'

Cat shook her Fore. 'No! I mean …' She rubbed a hand over her face. 'I don't want to feel like I'm molesting him every single time I touch him. Is that so wrong?'

'Forgive me the question,' Cutter said cautiously, 'but … does he have a sex drive?'

'Something akin to it, but again, not as we do. And it's bugging me.'

'How could he be improved?'

'I never said that!' Cat balled her fists. 'I never said improved. I'm going to … Oh, they've got to help him so I can finally yell at him.' She licked her lips. 'You met anyone else from my people?'

'The lot in Sanctuary Hills.'

'You saw Codsworth? And Curie?' Cutter nodded. 'Well, what if I told you that Curie, when I met her, looked a lot like Codsworth?'

'Oh.'

'Yes, oh. I only suggested once … that he could ask the Doc who did it for Curie. Ask, if he wanted to, if she could do the same for him.'

Edge and Cutter exchanged a glance. 'When Cutter realised what I was, I was afraid,' Edge said. 'All Cutter wanted was for me to embrace that truth. To appreciate the advantages of _not_ being all human. I believed then that he wanted me to become someone else. To change me. And I hurt him.' He looked sideways at the broken figure of Nick Valentine. 'Once he comes round, assure him that you don't want him to alter who he is. Did you ever do that?'

'Shouldn't that be obvious?'

Cutter chuckled. 'Nothing's ever obvious. Even less so with a synth in a crisis. Tell him why you said what you did. Tell him you love him, but only if it's true. Tell him you want him to have all the joy and fun and sensuality a human has because it seems selfish when he doesn't. Be honest. I think he deserves that.'

'I can't lose him.' She looked over at Nick and started digging in a pouch. 'Sorry Nick, but I've got to get going.' She produced an inhaler and took two deep lungfuls from it. 'I don't normally use Jet,' she added, picking herself up from the floor with an effort. 'Or any chems. Let's keep going. I can't expose him to the risk of being found with our pants down.' She pointed ahead of them, to a tall building visible above the rubble elsewhere. 'See that? That's where we're going. Desdemona is going to have my head, but I can't … I can't risk Nick.' She pressed her lips together. 'I'll sooner risk the Railroad.'


	8. A Dream of Oceans

_((This time the chapter Heading is an R.E.M. reference (_ Reveal) _.))_

* * *

 _8\. A Dream of Oceans_

Cutter had never in his life felt more out of place. There was an almost overwhelming odour of decay in the place, adding to his persisting nausea. The fact that Cat stopped halfway through the underground passage to shout for someone rather than move further didn't help, either.

They were greeted by a woman who stared at Cat, Deacon at her side. 'Is he …?'

'No. Dez, look, I need Tom. Right now. Keep them out if you must, but I couldn't carry Nick all on my own. Look I'm sorry, but …'

'Deacon told me. But I expected you to drop the rest off elsewhere.'

'They've been working with him, they're safe. He wanted to bring them to you, he wouldn't have done that if they weren't.'

'No, not Nick.'

'Please, I'm begging you! I need Tom.'

'You do.' Dez glanced at Nick again and shuddered. 'Come on then. But I reserve the right not to let you leave.'

'Ma'am,' Cutter said cautiously. 'We're looking for a friend. Nick thought he might be here. Have you met anyone who was dressed like us?'

'Later. First Nick.'

Ϡ

Cutter had expected it to take a long time before this odd, talkative fellow could put Nick back together, if at all. In truth, it took him all of fifteen minutes before he emerged, beaming, followed by the detective. His face was mostly intact, at least not much less so than when they had first met him, apart from a black, blistered bit of skin on his forehead. The skin on his left hand, however, was irrevocably gone. 'I guess I won't use mines much, in the future,' Nick said in a light tone that suggested he had nothing worse than a bruised finger.

Cat emitted something close to a whimper and launched herself at him, grabbing the front of his coat and leaning in close to whisper a stream of either rant or admiration at him. Cutter wasn't entirely certain which.

Gently, Nick plucked her hands away and looked at them, caught in his metal ones. 'Suppose this settles it. I'm even more of a mess than before. Perhaps you should stick with Deacon.'

'Are you out of your mind?' She looked around and lowered her voice when she realised that everyone was pointedly not looking their way. 'Nick, you don't get it, do you?'

He smiled, and it became clear that he did, indeed, get it. 'I heard a few very intelligent people talk … Voices in the dark, so to say. And they were rather insightful, really.' He tilted his head. 'Would you accept an apology from a fool that doesn't trust what is happening to him because it seems way better than anything he deserves?'

'Maybe. You hurt me, Nick. A lot.'

'I know. I can't unsay what I said. I know it was unfair and I do regret it.' He looked at his hands again and sighed. 'You know … this is a bit much, even for me. I miss having a hand with skin already. I might … at least speak to Amari. I suppose Curie was harder.'

'I don't want you to do this for me, Nick.'

'I'm … aware of that. I always was. And before you say it, I won't take risks. If Amari says she doesn't dare, I'll see what can be done for me regarding repairs. All right?'

Cat gave him a watery smile and a nod. Nick brushed a metal thumb over her cheek, infinitely careful, before he turned to Edge and Cutter. 'You brought them here? I planned to leave them in Bunker Hill and go here alone. But then, you didn't have much choice, what with a broken bot on your hands.' He approached Desdemona, who was keeping a careful eye on the pair. 'Dez, question. Did you … ah, rescue a man in similar attire? He's been taken by someone who probably thought he's a synth, and I hope it was you.'

'Wait here. Tom, go get our visitor.'

The young man nodded and hurried off. He returned a few minutes later with Fore in tow, a bandage on his left elbow and a wrench in his hand. Fore's eyes went wide. 'You! How did you get here? I thought I'd never see you again.'

'So did we. Look, I think we've got to talk about this entire mercenary thing.'

Fore made a face. 'Sure. I think we might agree.'

'As usual.'

Nick looked at them. 'The Railroad isn't going to let you walk around just like that, synth or no synth.'

'You told him about Edge?' Fore asked.

Cutter made a face. 'No. Fellow eavesdropped.'

'Not personally. But … fact is, the Railroad can do with a few extra pairs of hands.'

'If we pass some sort of brain scan, or what?' Cutter asked. 'I wouldn't let just anyone in if I were them.'

A smile stole onto Nick's face. 'Something between the two extremes, I would guess. You've got your friend back, you'll get to reconsider your louse career choice, and you're safe here from radiation and the trials of the Commonwealth. Surely that's something until you get a chance to prove your intentions.' He smirked. 'Should I ask Mama Murphy anything for you, seeing how you're not going back to her?'

Cutter glanced at Edge who was wearing a minute smile. 'No,' he said. 'I'm good. All good.'

Fore didn't look entirely convinced. 'I don't know if I like being a prisoner. Not that these aren't nice captor, but still.'

Nick shrugged. 'Let me put it that way. You called yourselves Tourists and you have chosen nicknames. Sounds like an omen to me.'


	9. Standing by the Ruins of Your Soul

_((Chapter heading is a line from_ See Me in Shadow _by Delain)_

* * *

 _9\. Standing by the Ruins of Your Soul_

Normally, Cat lingered when she visited the Railroad Headquarters. This time, she was anxious to leave. Deacon stayed behind to keep an eye on the three young men that had been added to the underground movement.

Even though their reunion had been friendly enough, their walk to Diamond City was a quiet one. 'Cat, can we talk, please,' he ventured when they were still out in the Fens. 'I'm scared here.'

Nick could see emotions chasing each other on her face. There was lingering anger and disappointment, pain, and fear. But the one that settled in was tender, a gentle smile, though not a happy one. 'No need for that, Nick. I had a lot of time to think, and I needed that.' She took his hand in hers, ignoring the coldness of it, and interlinked their fingers. 'We'll talk in my home.'

They couldn't get there soon enough for Nick's taste. The door had barely closed behind them when he pulled her close, holding her, feeling her relax against him, and relishing every moment of it. Finally, he let go and looked down at her. 'Can I try to explain? It's not an excuse, but …' Cat nodded. Nick took a seat and sighed. 'Since I first saw you, you never treated me like a machine. And whenever I said I was one, you made a point of telling me … shouting even, that I am more than that.'

She threw her hands in the air. 'Yes, because you are!' She balled her fists. 'I know. I watched you, you know, I saw that I'd hurt you and I prattled on. I should have said … procedure, anything, but not upgrading. That's just not the way you talk about a person.'

'Doesn't make what I said less bad.'

'No.' She shook her head. 'Can we just … I don't want to lose you over this.'

Nick rose and knelt next to Cat's chair. 'Me neither.' He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. 'I want you to know that I don't feel molested. I want to do things to you my body hasn't been equipped for. I can feel all of the arousal but no release.' He lowered his voice. 'Come to think of it, that was starting to get to me. I never thought I'd find love. Not being what I am. But now I have found it, I want it all. That aside, what passes for skin on me isn't as firm as it used to be. Material's breaking down after a couple of centuries it seems. I'll go and see Amari. Any preference regarding visual components?'

'Excuse me?'

He grinned. 'Well, if you want certain facial properties, now's the time to tell me.'

Cat shook her head. 'God, Nick. I fell in love with this face, so it will be tough to adjust to another, no matter what it looks like. Not to mention your voice … I'll miss your voice. But in the end, it doesn't matter. All I want is that you're happy. And safe. Safe would be great. But right now … right now I need you capable, Nick, and the change will leave you very vulnerable.'

The fear that he'd noticed on the way to Diamond City was still there, and he realised something else must be very wrong, too. 'What happened, Cat?'

'Aside from almost losing a friend and my partner within a couple of days?'

'Deacon?'

'No. Danse.' Her expression turned to repulsion. 'I told Ingram about their fucking bombs, went to the fucking Prydwen, and was told by that utter whoreson that I … _I_ , Nick, was to hunt down and murder Danse.'

Nick blinked and returned to his chair, sitting across from Cat. He took her hands in his, glad that despite his state she took comfort in the gesture. He'd feel lost if he couldn't even provide that. 'Why would they want that?'

'He's a synth, Nick.'

He let that sink in for a moment. 'While I appreciate the irony of that bit of information, I don't envy him for the emotional rollercoaster. The end of the tale is clear, he was very alive when we met up. I'd be interested in what happened between.'

'I agreed to find him. And luckily, he has a friend who warned him.'

'That's why he fled from Sanctuary.'

'Yeah. When I did find him … he'd made up his mind that he deserved to die. He hated himself, I think a part of him still does. He knelt with his hands behind his back and wanted me to execute him, wouldn't listen to reason … not at first. I talked to him like to a sick child and finally, finally he looked up at me and I saw a flicker of hope. Hope that he wasn't unworthy of life, that he wasn't an evil machine.' Cat's lower lip trembled and Nick shifted his chair closer so she could settle her head against his shoulder. 'I wanted to take him home, Nick, but out there was Maxson. Telling me he'd expected me to fail … I don't know how I did it, but I managed to persuade him to let him go.'

'Lawyer peeking out.'

Cat swatted at Nick's arm and grinned. 'Perhaps a little … God, Nick, if he'd killed him … Anyway, he told me to return and be promoted. He said to him, Danse is dead and I'm to take his place. I could vomit.'

'Did you go?'

'You kidding? I'll never talk to him again.' She swallowed. 'It's happened, hasn't it? I can no longer keep doing this. I've still stuff to do with the Institute, but them? No. It's coming, the moment I have to pick a side.'

'You have already, Cat, a long time ago.'

'I know. But there are people I don't want to have to fight. In the Institute as well as on the Prydwen. They're not all of them shit.'

Nick leaned forwards and kissed her softly. 'I told you once, I'll be there all the way.'

'Yeah. Which is why … I'm sorry, but you've got to wait if you really want to do that.'

He nodded. 'Naturally.'


	10. On the Other Side

_((Chapter Heading is a song be Delain. Again.))_

 _10\. On the Other Side_

It was all over. The Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel were gone, Desdemona happier than Cat had thought she'd ever see her, and Shaun … Well. Right now he was back in Santuary Hills under Hancock's care. How it was possible that the ghoul was one of the few people that didn't scare the poor kid was anyone's guess, but Cat took it to be a good sign. She could hardly drag herself away from him, but for this, she had to. She couldn't leave Nick to do this alone.

Amari was staring at them both. 'Do you think,' she asked, 'that I have a cellar full of habitable synth bodies at my disposal?' She closed her eyes. 'Don't answer that. Did you tell her what I said to you years ago, Nick? Is that why you're here?'

Cat was prepared to swear he would have blushed if he were able. 'No.' He hardly met Cat's eye. 'Amari offered this to me a long time ago. With the caveat that she doesn't know the risks.'

'Well. We know those better now.' Amari shrugged. 'You were wired to Kellogg and nothing happened. Curie's functioning fine. I don't worry about the transfer as much as your ability to adjust. Curie was a robot. You're something entirely different, a lot less organised. No offence.'

'None taken.'

'At any rate, it was tough for her. For you it will be worse.'

'Dangerous?' Cat asked sharply.

'Not if you're prepared to tell him to eat, sleep, drink. These things are usually those that work least. You see, if your bladder's full, that's more distinguished than mild hunger or thirst. Those are difficult to recognise. Never mind sleep deprivation.' She smiled. 'Not that he could starve, as far as I know, but even for a Gen 3 hunger isn't fun.'

'Well, can you let us know if and when you have someone suitable?'

'Want to change your sex?'

'No.'

Amari smirked. 'Good. If you did I think Irma would make good on her threats to cheat with you.' She took a deep breath. 'I may have someone. The caretaker told me to take him off life-support. I'll ask permission, of course, but I don't think it's going to be a problem. You can wait in the Third Rail, this might go fast if they agree.'

'They're here?' Cat asked.

'Yes. But I don't want you to meet them. And I may need to contact my plastic surgeon. After the last time, I think it's wiser not to confront people with seeing their loved ones inhabited by others. Glory still glowered at me last time I saw her. Now go.'

Ϡ

Cat had her eyes closed as she cradled Nick's hands. Magnolia's voice was gentle and soothing, and if she wasn't careful she'd fall asleep. 'You all right, Kitten?' Nick's voice was warm and sweet and did nothing to wake her up.

'Just so tired,' she said softly. 'And a bit frightened.' She shifted until she could look up at Nick's eyes. 'Of something going wrong. Of what you'll look and sound like.'

'I'll still be me, you know.'

'Yes. I know. And I know you'll still love me the same. Just forget it.'

Carefully, Nick ran his right hand through Cat's hair. 'Amari wouldn't do this, not without warning us, if it weren't safe. Do you want to take a room in the Rexford? Sleep a little? We don't know how long this'll take.'

'Amari will look for us here.'

'And we'll leave a message with Charlie here. And bribe him sufficiently to actually give it to Amari.'

The Redford was far from Cat's favourite place in the Commonwealth, but right now, she was grateful for the privacy alone. However confident Nick was, she couldn't quite shed her fear that something horrible was going to happen. Feeling her anxiety, Nick settled on the bed next to her and pulled her near, her head coming to lie on his chest. 'Try to sleep. You haven't in a while.'

'Too long.' She turned and flung an arm around him. 'You'll have trouble getting into the city. God, Nick, they'll … I don't know, maybe you shouldn't.'

He took a while to answer. 'We'll see. But I intend to go through with this. And may I remind you that this was your idea?'

'Yeah. A frightening one.'

'Most of your ideas are. Ideas like, hey, there's a deathclaw far off in the mist. Let's try and fire from here, heavens forbid we try and sneak past.'

'Is it that bad?'

'Occasionally. You're not used to having the time to think on your frightening ideas. Which aren't necessarily bad. Fighting a deathclaw is definitely better than failing to sneak past and being attacked when we think we're safe.'

'True. But this particular deathclaw is a risk only to you. I'm not in the habit of risking the lives of those I love.'

'Come now. It's not like you dragged me to Amari. And I don't think …' A sharp rap on the door interrupted him. 'Come in.'

In a swirl of colour and feathers, Irma swept in. She regarded the pair lounging on the bed with a smirk. 'Is it true? You're doing it?'

'No, Deacon turned into Amari and lied to you.' Cat burst into laughter, and Nick grinned. 'News?'

'Yes, indeed. You can come. All is ready. Do you wish surgery? It's a pretty face, no need to mar it.'

'I'll discuss the details with Amari when I get there.'

'As you wish.'

They followed Irma to the Memory Den, Cat feeling increasingly fretful. Amari was calm, serene even. When Cat stepped into the cellar room, the doctor folded her arms. 'Really now. You need to wait upstairs.'

'Can't I …'

'Definitely not. Move. You'll see him again soon enough.'

Ϡ

Nick opened his eyes. He blinked. There was more shadow, more colour, less general information. He felt his heartbeat, his breath (thank God that worked for him without having to think about it), the clothes on his body. 'Oh damn.'

'Sit up, but don't try standing just yet.' Amari's instruction sounded weird, but after a few moments, he knew why she'd given it. He was dizzy. Very dizzy. 'All went beautifully, you're free to go, but take your time. I'll want you to check in with me in a couple of days to make sure you're doing all right.' She smiled. 'The surgeon did one hell of a job for you. Not saying he improved the looks, but, well, a customer's wishes. You know.'

Nick looked at her. 'I hope that wasn't a royally stupid idea.'

'I don't think so. Now let me check … What's your name?'

'Deacon.' He grinned at her exasperated look. 'Nick Valentine. Don't fret.'

'13 factorial?'

'I've never been overly good even at normal calculations, Amari.'

'Guess.'

'Something … a few billions. No idea.'

'Good enough. Now …'

'Amari. I'm fine. Get out of my hair.'

'You don't … never mind. Well, your personality sure seems intact. Go get your girl, Valentine. And look after yourself.'

Nick felt that rhythm in his chest getting harder and faster with every step he took. He hadn't even though of checking a mirror and had no idea what he really looked like. He'd given instructions, but how well they'd been followed he couldn't guess. He glanced at his hands. They were shaking, but perfectly normal human hands. His skin tone was very light, almost pale, but without the greyish hue the Gen 2 body had possessed. He sounded as he had hoped he would, and that was a good sign.

As he stepped through the door (the handle was cold, uncomfortably so), he found Cat with her face in her hands and Irma beside her, an arm around the small woman and whispering to her. Irma's eyes fell on him and a smile blossomed on her face. 'Look who's here,' she said. Cat looked up, eyes wide. But only for a second.

Her mouth fell open as she took him in. 'Oh my God.' Nick would have given anything at that point for a chance to run back down before she spotted him and checking his reflection. 'You're …' She hurried towards him and took his chin, turning his head this way and that to have a thorough look.

'Gentle with the verdict, I haven't even seen myself.'

A gleam entered her eyes, a gleam Nick recognised too quickly as mischief. 'Oh, is that so?' She grinned, her fear apparently forgotten. 'Took a long time, you'll see if it was worth frightening me senseless. Did you give instructions at all?'

'Yes.' He wasn't getting any less nervous under Cat's stare. 'Do you have a mirror of some description?'

Cat snorted. 'Have you met me?'

Irma tutted. 'May I help out?' She held out a hand mirror and Nick took it, apprehension rising to a peak.

He stared for a few moments and felt laughter rising somewhere deep in his chest. It felt strange, as if his entire body was affected rather than his voice box. Her hadn't seen himself too long to be sure it was identical – why would he have checked his reflection, after all? – but it was certainly familiar, right unto the unnaturally yellow irides. Amari had tried to argue about that, tried to tell him he wouldn't blend in with something so obviously not natural, but that had been part of the plan. He'd never pretended to be human, he wouldn't start now, and he wanted to be recognised. That meant his voice and face – including his eyes as far as that was possible – had to remain at least very similar.

Tearing his gaze from his own reflection, Nick glanced at Cat. Worried, needing something from her that confirmed that she was on board with his decisions.

She smiled, and he had his answer. 'You look perfect.'

'Well, there's no accounting for taste.'

She poked a finger at his chest. 'Fool. Kiss me, Valentine.'

Smiling down at her, Nick pulled her against his body and did as she asked. Their lips had barely touched when a flare went through his body and exploded in his groin.

'Oh?' she made, pressing closer still.

Nick inhaled sharply and fought for control. He had thought he felt arousal before, but apparently after 200 years of no sexual contact his expectations had been way too low. 'Cat, I think we should get out of here.'

He heard Irma chuckle. 'Get a room, you two. If you want, you could go through to my retreat when I need a break. It's not the prettiest place in the world, but it's private.'

Nick wanted to protest, but that particular resolution died a quick demise when he looked at Cat's flushed face. 'Thanks,' he managed and clasped his woman's hand, pulling her with him. He knew where Irma meant, after all.

'Been here before?' Cat asked lightly as the door closed behind them. There was a bed in there, and the paintings on the wall suggested that the kind of break Irma meant was of a similar nature.

'Yes.' He spun them around and pushed against her, pressing her back into the door. 'On a job.' He kissed her again, wildly this time, his tongue plunging into her mouth and caressing hers. His hands, trembling with barely contained need, peeled her out of her clothes. He felt her fingers opening his shirt and the front of his trousers. A small hand closed around his sex, and for a moment he feared it would all be over. 'Easy. Been a while.'

Cat grabbed his hand and placed it between her legs. 'Not as long for me, but too long it seems.' She was more than ready. He slipped two fingers inside her easily, her slick warmth inviting him to offer more.

'I thought our first time would be a bit more romantic.'

'Yeah. Me too.'

'Screw that?'

'Screw _me_ ,' she breathed.

Nick considered the chair or the desk, but in fact, the door would do. Lifting her legs, he kept her back against it. Cat reached down to help him position while he held her, and he entered her.

No matter how hard Nick tried to keep his eyes open, he couldn't do it. Her legs were locked in his back, her arms around his neck, and her face pressed against his shoulder. Cat was moaning, his name escaping her swollen lips.

Nick hushed her, remembering with some small part of his mind that the privacy they had was very relative. 'Don't want Amari kicking me out for good,' he managed.

Cat looked up at him and giggled, kissing him wildly. It was overwhelming to feel her joined to him, moving with him, a hand on top of his head and their mouths sealed together. He felt his legs tremble and managed to lower himself to the floor, not caring if it was at all clean, without breaking their contact. Cat sat up on him, hands on his chest, and started riding him fast and hard and Nick almost forgot his own plea for silence. He bit into his lip to stop himself from shouting, producing only a strangled moan. He grabbed her hips and stilled her, thrusting up into her with abandon. He brought one hand to her lower belly rubbed his thumb over her clit.

When Cat went rigid, her muscles clenching him in hard, powerful waves, it was too much. Breath coming in gasps, he came, too soon, he found, too unstylish, but oh so perfect. He pulled her down and held her, fighting for some control over this strange new body.

A short, hard rap on the door had them both freeze in shock. 'When you're quite done, I'd appreciate it if you didn't continue in there,' Amari's voice said with a hint of amusement. 'I kicked everyone out before you came in, but I don't intend to stay closed all day. So please just … leave. Thanks.'

When their eyes met, Cat smiled. 'Let's … ah … take this somewhere else.'

'Do we manage to get to Sanctuary Hills?'

'Yeah. Sure, why not. Maybe Diamond City's better. Not that far. It's getting a bit late.'

'Or maybe the Redford would do. We already have a room there, don't we?'

'Yeah! Would be a shame to have paid for it and not to use it.'

'You should sleep.'

'I should.'

'Oi!' It sounded as if a foot collided with the door. 'Go already, and don't come back until this is out of your system. Feed him, Whisper. And give him water. And now scram!' There was a moment of stifled laughter from the doctor. 'Before I kick my own door in.'

Nick knew that Amari would never make good on that threat, but he decided to do her the favour anyway. His face felt hot at the thought of being confronted with the feigned wrath at what they'd just done. They dressed hastily, but before Nick could open the door, Cat placed a hand on his. 'Nick?'

'Hmm?'

'Marry me.'

He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He felt his eyes suddenly burning as he stared at her, at the mixture of shock at what she'd just said and anxious anticipation on her face. He licked his lips and pressed down the door handle. 'Careful what you ask for. The answer might very well be yes. Or definitely.' His voice sounded strange, and it struck him that unless he got a grip he was going to cry. The smile tugging at her mouth was stunningly beautiful and absolutely didn't make it easier not to. He shook himself. 'Let's go before I have to kiss you and this starts all over.'


End file.
